17 December 2011
Morgue, The Ministry of Magic

Vesta Baddrick woke up heaving. She lurched forward hacking out her lungs, her long black hair sticking to her bare skin and face. From her mouth came a syrupy black bile sliding down her chin into her hands. She could only see darkness even though her eyes were wide open.

She felt the cold stone slab beneath her. A thin sheet had been thrown off her face and only now covered her lower half. Vesta had awoken in the Ministry morgue, and the coroner was cowering against the wall; she’d stumbled back at the corpse’s sudden re-animation and scattered a stack of files all over the floor. Even under the Imperius Curse , something survived of the natural human response to a dead body reviving.

“Don’t try to move,” she quavered. “You’re in the morgue. You’re alive.”

The cursed coroner had been instructed to drip three drops of unicorn blood into this specific body at this time and date, two days after the it was delivered from Azkaban. Suspicious causes. Possible poisoning, they’d said without much concern. Baddrick was a foul creature, rarely inspiring sympathy. Whatever the method of near-death, Baddrick had seemed very thoroughly dead.

Vesta paid little heed to the coroner’s words and clutched at the sheet, rolling over to continue vomiting over the edge of the examination table onto the floor of the dungeon-like chamber. Around her other bodies lay silent and jealous, covered in their own shrouds awaiting the coroner’s inspection.

It had worked. It had worked. The delicious pain told her it worked. She started laughing, her voice coming in a harsh wet rasp. Manic in the relief; freedom was in her hands. Vesta’s vision was slowly returning. She wiped her mouth and spat out another mouthful of grime. With effort she swung her feet around to hang off the table, preparing to stand.

“Stop, you need to rest. You’ve been mostly dead all day!” the coroner exclaimed. If she lost Baddrick after all the effort had been gone to fake her death, the price would be high. Baddrick put her feet on the ground, but the coroner had rushed forward in time to catch her.

From one knee, Baddrick clutched at the coroner trying again to stand but ultimately sitting down on the floor against the table. “Water,” she coughed. “Get me some fecking water!”

The coroner stepped away to get her a tall jar of liquid she had ready.“It’s salted. You need to drink all of it.” Vesta did. It nearly made her wretch from the taste but she felt it pushing more life into her limbs.

“Clothes!” she demanded next. “And I need a wand.”

Clothes the coroner had prepared, business casual and a long black coat. But a wand… “you’ll be provided one once I get you out of here. You’ll meet someone, and -”

“I need a fecking waaaaand,” Vesta suddenly screamed, struggling to her feet and throwing herself at the coroner.

The coroner stumbled back again and drew her own wand. “You stop right there! I’ll fire! Don’t think I won’t drop you! You’ll do as I say conscious or not!”

Vesta didn’t stop. She charged forward, her sheet falling to the ground, and grabbed the coroner’s neck. “Give me. The wand.”

“I can’t! It’s mine. He’ll get you a new one. Untraceable. Step back, you idiot!”

Vesta released her roughly and whirled away and began putting on the clothing.

“Fix your hair,” the coroner directed. Vesta looked like a drowned rat. Not good if they were going to walk out of here. Which was the plan.

“Everyone is at the party,” the coroner explained as Vesta finger-combed her tangled locks. “We’ll try to avoid everyone. Use the Floos to get to this address in Diagon.”

Floo’ing directly to Knockturn from the Ministry could move eyes in the Floo authority.

“Someone will meet you there. And you’ll get your … fecking … wand.”

fin